5 | Iris's Obtuse Arguments

obtuse angle (n.): an angle that measures between 90◦ and 180◦ in degree measure or between π/2 and π in radian measure.

He could still feel the chill in his bones.

Damn these expeditions in the beginning of spring – the frost was only beginning to lift but Shadis had them running out the walls anyway. Levi knew the reasons: the titans were only beginning to recover from the dark of winter, and there was enough daylight for troops to comfortably operate in. He'd be the first to mutter and curse about how damn cold everything still was, however, and how the lower temperatures seemed to affect how well the ODM gear worked.

He'd never liked it. He hated watching frost creep up on his and everyone else's gear on expeditions in spring, hated the feeling of using ice-cold gear on his fingertips. Not everyone shared his misgivings but Levi knew when his gears didn't wind right or when his hooks took a split second too long to retract – that slightly off-center feeling, that moment of infinitesimal dread and surprise, ate at his insides like nothing else. When the lives of the men in the legion were on the line, even that slightest bit of discomfort on Levi's part could be enough to explode in loss.

Erwin knew it too. The ODM could get temperamental in these temperatures, that was obvious. But did Shadis listen? No. Everyone knew that the Scouts had shit luck, but Shadis tested that luck every time with these spring expeditions, and the results of these expeditions had been so far good.

Levi snorted: if there was any benefit to the way Erwin liked to climb the ranks in the Scouts, it'd at least be that Erwin wouldn't be so reckless with the lives of the men in the legion.

When his carriage rolled to a stop in front of the familiar two-story house in the northeastern region of Wall Rose, Levi grabbed the bag he'd thrown on the other seat and clambered out with his other hand holding his suit jacket shut.

Camille. Camille would know what to do. He'd felt that moment of weightless discomfort one too many times while he'd been out there on their most recent expedition. She could do something about it.

It was still somewhat early in the day – maybe too early for this, considering the street was still shrouded in fog, but she'd said come back any time and Levi fully intended to abuse it. The clock shop, even with its fogged up storefront, still had light emanating from it, so he took it as a sign to march in.

"Oi."

Levi looked up. That same blonde hair, but the eyes were wrong – Iris.

She was leaning over a balcony on the second story. Her mouth opened to say something, but then her eyes zeroed in on the bag he'd brought with him, at which point she'd only pursed her lips and nodded. "Come in back."

She disappeared inside without another word.

He did as he was told – the candlelight in the shop flickered as he passed through, and when he opened the backdoor, he was hit by a wave of heat that made him flex the fingers he hadn't even known were that cold.

His feet automatically took him to the sitting room, where the smell of eggs cooking, bread baking, and – Levi furrowed his brows – tobacco, wafted. The fireplace was lit; the table was already set for breakfast, though his eyes immediately spotted the man sitting at the other end of the room, warming himself in a chair.

The man got up as soon as Levi appeared.

"Good morning," He greeted with a low voice like gravel, putting out his cigarette on an ashtray on the fireplace's mantel. Levi's mouth thinned at the way the man had to be at least twice his size in muscle and height – but the man seemed uninterested in this, instead coming to a stop a few feet away from Levi, allowing them to regard each other without either one looking up or down. "Are you here to have something repaired?"

The man had swept back brown hair, but it was Camille's green eyes that stared back at Levi.

Levi nodded.

"I see," The man continued, somehow managing a smooth tone with his grizzled voice, "Please. Sit. I'll have tea ready. Iris will be with you in a minute."

Then the man excused himself, apparently to make the tea.

Something about his politeness was vaguely unsettling and at odds with his hulking stature – but then he remembered, of course, Camille had always been polite too. She could be teasing, yes, but she still bothered with the excuse me's and the I'm sorry's and the thank you's.

Levi pulled out a chair from the dining table. Where the hell was Camille? He'd rather be upstairs like he usually was when he visited with his gear.

Footsteps. Iris soon appeared – and she sat across him. "I see you've met my husband."

As if on cue, the man emerged from the kitchen, teapot and cups in hand. "Is he a friend of yours, Iris?"

"He's one of Erwin's subordinates," Iris replied. It was also slightly uncanny to see Camille's face stare back at him, only older. The worst part was Iris could have easily passed as an older sister, rather than a mother. "They're in the Scout Corps, though as I understand it, on differing squads. Levi, this is my husband and Camille's father, Soren."

"Any friend of Erwin's is a friend of ours," Soren uttered as he slid a cup of tea in front of Levi. "Welcome to our home."

"Thank you." He mumbled, his own hand going straight for the tea. A passing glance into the kitchen proved it was only Lotta puttering away.

He also didn't like the way Iris's eyes seemed to dig into him, though her scrutiny let up when she took a sip of her own tea. "I told you, didn't I, dear? Erwin usually only brought his gear here to get it fixed. Levi does the same, but it's Camille who does his repairs."

Finally. Levi put his cup down. Much as he'd always liked the tea they served in this house – he was here for a reason. "Where's Camille?"

He could practically hear the fireplace crackling in the silence that instantly descended upon her name falling from his lips. Even Lotta seemed to hush in the kitchen.

Levi evenly gazed at Iris, whose grip tightened on her cup, then at Soren.

But the older man was calm. "Camille is away." He turned his green eyes on Levi fully, "Did you need her help specifically? I'm sure my wife can offer a similar expertise, if it's your gear that needs repairing."

He felt a stab of annoyance. His eyes felt heavy from hitching a ride here as early as he could make it, only for the person he came here to see to not even be present.

Maybe he just preferred Camille's light presence compared to how spiteful Iris seemed. He still hadn't forgotten how she'd bossed him around that first time he'd come here.

Maybe he was still tired from the expedition and coming here this early had been a bad idea.

"I had a question," Levi sighed, "about how the ODM gear should be working in low-temperature conditions."

Iris's brow jumped. "You came all this way for a question?"

"And Camille said she would replace the springs in my gear," Levi muttered, glaring into his teacup. Only the reflection of his scowl met him, and he was reminded to take another sip, because at least then he'd have gone to Belcastle for something.

"Camille did say she'd went to Stohess for some parts right before winter," Iris addressed Soren now. "That child also did say she thought he'd come back at some point."

The other man hummed. "Right. There's nothing to be done about it now." He got up, taking his empty tea cup with him. "Lotta will have breakfast ready soon. Levi, sit with us, we'll be eating."

Iris shook her head. "No, no, look at him, the boy's dead on his feet," Her gray eyes bore into him where he sat. "Ackerman, you look like shit. Go get some rest. We'll still have breakfast ready when you get up. We can talk later, I've got work to do anyway."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Iris jabbed a thumb towards the stairs. "No. You look like you've been up all day. Get your ass upstairs, there's a spare room with a bed and some blankets in the cabinet. When you wake up you'll sit down and eat some damn food, too, and I'll tell you why metal equipment gets fucked in the winter."

When glaring at Iris didn't produce any results, Levi switched to Soren. But the man only met his glower head-on, mouth twitching in amusement. "Ah, well, you heard her. My wife can be… direct."

Levi's eye twitched. He kept his mouth shut though, because they were right; the first thing he'd done as soon as he'd woken was get dressed and get ahold of a carriage before some sniveling private itching to go home beat him to it.

So maybe he wasn't feeling half as murderous as he might've been by Iris ordering him around. Maybe, as he climbed the steps leading to the second floor, some part of him even accepted it. Kindness was a luxury in the Underground, but one day, Isabel had come to him with a bird whose wings were broken, and even he'd suddenly found it difficult to refuse her, let alone just leave her out to the wolves.

Tch. He wasn't some helpless brat anymore, nor was he some heartless thug from the Underground. He was a soldier in the Survey Corps. This was too much to get worked up over. Just take it for what it is, damn it.

If this was what hospitality was, he silently decided he'd make no complaints about it either.

There were only two doors on the second floor: one led to the balcony. The other must've led to the spare room. Levi narrowed his eyes as he lifted a hand to the door handle.

Of course, it wasn't a spare room at all: this was the room Camille had gone into to get changed. It was her bedroom. Which made him wonder just where the hell was she, if they called this a spare room.

There was a bed on the other end of the narrow room, and judging by how the room didn't have the stale smell of dust, she'd either only been recently gone, or they regularly cleaned the room.

Levi sat on the bed's edge and took everything in.

There was a desk on the left, with a cabinet right beside it; to the right was a bookcase and a mirror. Somehow he could envision her, seated at her desk, reading something. Plain white shirt and a matching long skirt, blonde hair tucked behind her ears – the way she usually looked when she did his repairs. Her green eyes would be focused squarely on the book, lost in the pages in the same way she got lost in gears and cogs.

She seemed more than the type. If she was childhood friends with Erwin, then she had to be. Somebody had to have encouraged all the boring reading Erwin did in his spare time.

The sheets were fresh and unwrinkled when he laid a hand on them; evidently someone had just changed them. As he took a deep, resounding breath, silently lamenting the absurdity of the situation, he thought he smelled the faintest wisp of something else amongst the clean smell of newly washed linens.

He spotted the source immediately: a sprig of lavender held together by twine, placed in a tiny crystal vase on a bedside table he hadn't even noticed.

Isabel had been the one to teach him what lavender was: that gentle scent, those tiny purple flowers; the papery stalks that told him the lavender had been dried. She always paid an exorbitant amount for them every time she was given her cut, which Furlan had chided her for many times.

They're just flowers, Furlan would say.

Isabel would scrunch her face: But they smell so nice!

Levi had silently agreed with Furlan, but he'd known that if it wasn't the flowers, she'd be spending her money on some other ridiculous thing.

He'd liked it, though, whenever she returned to their house in the Underground with a bundle of lavender wrapped in paper. It had only been a shack but Levi had always worked to keep it spotless. The lavender cut through the otherwise harsh smell of bleach, and Levi had always found himself looking for its scent when he got home. It meant Isabel was still there. Still recklessly spending money on inconsequential things like flowers. Still alive.

Levi laid back on her pillow with a curse. He was more tired than he thought if that was how easily he let himself slip into memory.

He still had his shoes on, and his suit would undoubtedly get wrinkled, but he found himself too willing to let sleep take over.

Lavender and Isabel. Camille and his old life.

They blurred into one blackness as he closed his eyes.

Sunlight was what woke him.

Judging by how bright the sun outside her window was, it was already noon. Levi sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck," He muttered, and got up to straighten himself in the mirror.

Luckily he'd slept on his back the entire time, but the awkward position of having his body half-on and half-off the bed made his legs sore. He'd felt worse, though, and the nap – even if it had been too long for his taste – actually had the effect of making him feel… well-rested. Alert. Whatever.

He glared at the mirror, running a hand through his slacks. A paper was shoved into one of the corners.

Levi squinted up at it. It was a sketch of someone – a boy.

Those wide eyes, that neatly parted hair, those brows.

He raised a finger to the paper. It was wrinkly with age, and if he nudged the paper aside somewhat, he could tell the sketch had been torn from a larger paper. It was Erwin as a brat – if nothing else, he could tell from the stupid bolo tie bratty Erwin wore, and the glassy-eyed look on his face.

It struck him, for the first time, how deep the friendship between Erwin and Camille was. They were friends. Real friends – not the friends Erwin made to use and discard later. Friends in the way normal people were, he supposed.

Doubt trickled into him at that. But Levi thought nothing more on it. He didn't need to speculate into Camille's life, much less her relationship with Erwin.

Looking away from the mirror brought his eye to the bookcase. His eyes glossed over book spines – and he came to the other end of the bookcase, where a small space had been left over by the simple wooden bookends she kept.

To his surprise, he found a small square of cloth. A drawstring bag was beside it – along with a note. Written by Camille to herself, apparently.

His hand plucked the note without thinking. She wrote in a cursive that reminded him of Erwin's own handwriting, except her letters were more relaxed and elongated. Almost… frilly, which was a stark contrast to the handwriting in the ODM plans she'd given him the first time they met.

Levi:

Cravat (3rd of December, 841 ; Carriage ride to Mitras)

- Wash before returning

Bersheimer compression springs (8th of December, 841; Bersheimer Trading, Nikolai Street, Stohess metal markets ; Assistant: Celestin)

- 1 dozen, RGS Small-to-Medium Machinery springs : 2 crowns per spring

- 1 ½ dozen, RGS Grade 2 Small Machinery springs : 0.5 crowns per spring

- 30 springs : 33 crowns

- Mother could cover leftover springs?

The note went into columns of numbers and symbols that made no sense to him. Levi raised a brow however at the price. Two crowns for a single spring? What the hell were these springs, anyway?

He put the note back in its place, and lifted the bag, which clinked with the sound of metal hitting metal. A quick look inside proved it to have the springs. The feeling of confusion only doubled when he raised one spring and noted that… they looked and felt like every other metal spring he'd laid his eyes on.

Levi took the bag anyway. Iris would find a use for them, as Camille seemed to intend. He passed over the cravat he'd given her; their shared carriage ride hadn't crossed his mind once since that day.

He'd meant it, though. She could keep it. So he tried to make good on his words by leaving it on her shelf. It was small payment for the apparently growing list of things he already owed her for. Even if she thought little of their meetings together, he could at least do this. He'd never been good at gratitude, just as Erwin said, but he could at least thank her again in person as well – if he'd even get the chance to see her, anyway.

With that, he shut the door to her room, his mind settled on one question for the people downstairs.

"She's gone."

Levi raised a brow. "Gone?"

Iris was already taking apart his ODM gear. Her hands were every bit as neat and practiced as Camille's had been. "Oh yes, gone. She eloped with Erwin. Just up and went, like that."

He felt his jaw drop open in pure shock. Was that why Erwin had rushed to Trost as soon as they were back in the walls from their most recent expedition?

That couldn't be true.

Iris let out a cackle of laughter. "Your – your face!"

He scowled. Witch. "You have a shitty sense of humor."

"Anything to wipe that frown off your face, kid. You're too young to be growing wrinkles already."

Then Iris sighed.

"Camille went to enlist."

Levi blinked. That couldn't be true either. "In the military?"

"You heard me," the older woman muttered. "And I wasn't joking either. I just know Erwin came here and whispered a few things in her ear to make her throw away her life like that. No offense to you, of course. But that's my daughter on the front lines."

Erwin. He should've known. "Erwin was here? How long ago was that?"

"Autumn." Her eyes squinted at some thought only she could see, though her hands still worked. "Late autumn. The first week of December – I was away on a call in another village. I should've stayed. Maybe then they wouldn't have been talking."

Iris put her wrench down on the dining table. "Dangerous, that. Those kids could put their brains together and cause the worst trouble. You know they exploded a chicken in our oven once? Erwin called it an 'experiment' but I had those brats clean the kitchen from top to bottom for chicken guts and made them apologize to Lotta for a week. They'd be even worse now as adults."

Levi let Iris monologue while he sifted his own thoughts. Camille in the military. It was the absolute last thing he would've expected – it was even less believable than Erwin actually getting on one knee and proposing to her.

"She wouldn't last a day," Levi said. It sounded half-hearted even to him.

Incredibly, Iris seemed to take offense at that. "You underestimate her. She spent five years in a classroom sitting beside condescending noble runts and rich bastards. She can take a bunch of farmer's boys."

Levi felt his lips thin. "A few criminals slip through the cracks every now and then. She doesn't look like she's done any kind of fighting in her life."

Iris paused. It had been a momentary thing – the slightest stall in her hands, the narrowing of her eyes, and if she hadn't been working non-stop the entire time, Levi wouldn't have even noticed it.

"…Yes, I'm aware they do," The older woman muttered, eyes pointedly on the gear. "But that child's got a good head on her shoulders. She can figure out something."

He felt suspicion well up in him. She knew something. If he had to take a bet, it was she knew who he was. Had been.

What did Camille know?

Erwin, Levi inwardly sneered, you fucking bastard.

Wasn't he already content in sending his childhood friends to the military?

"About these springs," Iris suddenly spoke, holding up one of the bigger metal coils that had been in the bag he'd brought downstairs. "Pretty, if you ask me. Cost a pretty penny too, I can tell. Did Camille say where they were from?"

"Stohess," He recalled the note she'd written. "Bersheimer Trading, in the metal markets."

"Mm. Little bit extravagant, but that's the taste you acquire from studying in Mitras," Iris sighed. "Alright. I'll replace the springs if I really have to – "

"Do it."

" – fine, might as well tell you about metals like these working in the winter, then."

Levi nodded. And Iris began the long tangent of how metal warped and shrunk in the winter – and how the metal wires in particular seemed susceptible to that, but Levi found his thoughts drifting away.

Shadis wouldn't care, the results were good, and Erwin probably knew everything Iris had to say about it either.

Levi knew he'd continue coming back to Belcastle. Iris knew her way around the gear, anyway.

Three years. There was the answer to his half-assed question to himself on if he'd ever see her again: in three years, he was sure of it.

Erwin always remembered to collect on his promises and favors. Three years, a decade, whatever. Levi knew him. The man was nothing if not patient.

Eyebrows,

You'll be pleased to note that I showed up outside MP HQ to enlist in the Training Corps. It'd be the 99th Training Corps, if I graduate on time. This was my decision, and I'm telling you about it. Just like I promised.

You should've seen the look on the recruiter's face when I told him I wanted to sign up! I had my bag and my papers ready, since I'd already seen the list of requirements and things we're allowed to bring to the Training Corps beforehand. Missy I never saw someone that prepared, he said.

This strikes me as a lie. I know for a fact that you showed up with 12 bags full of the things you needed and then some when you enlisted, because you're such a boy scout.

I'm sure I'll meet a lot of new people in my time here. They all tended to be the same in Wodan: rich, spoiled, only occasionally insightful. The recruiter told me there isn't a cap on the number of trainees, so it seems I won't be taking anyone's spot by being here. If anything, recruitment's been on a downturn. That's the gossip I heard anyway. Who knew the military would be so loose-lipped around a bunch of new recruits?

Don't confirm any of these claims, okay? I can see you itching to tell me if I was right or wrong in these assumptions.

In fact, don't write me back, or at all. We'll make do when I get out eventually. Personal communications are frowned upon while in the Training Corps, et cetera et cetera. I don't want to look like a suck-up either when word gets out that a lieutenant in the Survey Corps writes little old me.

Our wagon's arrived. It'll take us to the Southern Division.

Stay safe. Let me see you in three years.

Cammy

Notes:

*pretends to be shocked*

that concludes the opening arc! levi only bookended this one, but his pov will grow more frequent as the story progresses and we wean off the oc-only content, since we're drawing closer to canon. i am compelled to say that the impressions and opinions depicted by the pov bearer (or any character, really) in each chapter may not... you know, necessarily be true. :)

comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated! i'd like to know what you think of the erwin and levi depictions so far.